The Light that Almost Went Out
by lostsoul512
Summary: He knew better than anyone that he had never been the best of fathers; it was something he had lived with every day of his life. No one needed to tell him that he had failed, but that didn't mean he wasn't giving his all. And by the Light, he wasn't going to let him die, not even if he had to take down every member of the Horde with his bare hands.


**A/N: Prompt was dark. I was actually going to write about Kel'Thuzad, but instead I wound up with this. So I mean, whatever. This works too. I was happy with it, and then the more I wrote, the less happy with it I was. Hopefully I'm just being too hard on myself? **

**This was actually a post from my roleplay, which I expanded upon (and had to improvise for Anduin, since I don't actually play him…) thanks to Blame the Priest for much inspo. You're the best, babe. **

**Anyway, I've rambled enough now. Send love xx**

**...**

There were a thousand or more feelings coursing through his body, most of which he couldn't even begin to identify. As far as emotions went, Varian Wrynn had never been much in favor of them. They were dangerous. They made you reckless and volatile, and as the High King of the Alliance, these were things he could not afford to be. Not anymore, at least.

All that aside, it didn't change the fact that he was plagued with more emotions than he even knew what to do with. And why wouldn't he be? His son, his only son, and really all he had in the world, had almost died. His baby boy...but Anduin wasn't such a baby anymore, was he? No, he wasn't. And Varian simply didn't know what do with that. He knew better than anyone that he had never been the best of fathers; it was something he had lived with every day of his life. No one needed to tell him that he had failed, but that didn't mean he wasn't giving his all. And by the Light, he wasn't going to let him die, not even if he had to take down _every_ fucking member of the Horde with his bare hands.

For now, he opted to focus on the emotion he knew best, and that was anger. So it was with a fiery rage burning in his veins that he stomped into the main hall of the Tavern in the Mists. Varian was massive, towering, and easily recognized even without his signature armor. He instantly demanded the attention of everyone in the room as he stood in the doorway, his hand hovering dangerously close to Shalamayne, ready to attack anyone who even dared to look at him the wrong way.

It was with the same burning anger that he trudged up the stairs, each step a loud thud that echoed, that mirrored the frantic beats of his own heart. He didn't know what to expect, but he was certainly expecting the worst, and at the top of the stairs, he had to stop, gripping the banister so tightly his knuckles turned stark white.

"Varian?" A soft, gentle and soothing voice spoke to him. The brunette glanced over his shoulder to see his closest friend and confidant standing behind him. Jaina Proudmoore did her best to flash him a reassuring smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She had struggled to find anything to be happy about since the _incident_, and adding the fact that her pseudo-nephew had very nearly been killed by the same Orc that had stolen everything from her only served to further the deep depression into which she had spiraled. She was trying to be strong, trying to hold herself together, but dammit, it was so hard.

Jaina and Varian may not have been on the best of terms as of late, but when it counted, she had dropped everything to be there with him, and that said more about their relationship than any fight ever would. They had been through far too much together to throw it all away, and anyway, Anduin needed both of them there.

The blonde reached out to place a reassuring hand on Varian's shoulder. "I'll be waiting downstairs," she promised. Then, hoping the trembling in her voice didn't give too much of her own fear away, she added, "Everything is going to be okay."

Varian did his best to keep his own features stern, to cling to that anger he knew so well, but he couldn't seem to stop his lower lip from trembling and he felt the tell tale sting of tears welling in his eyes. Somehow, he still managed to nod. He lifted his chin and did his best to look brave, because he was Varian Wrynn, and he had no choice but to be brave.

At last he managed to approach the door, though the walk down the hall seemed incredibly long, and he lifted his hand to knock on the door. He didn't bother to wait for a reply before letting himself in, and the sight before him sent him into a near panic, clutching onto the doorway just to keep himself upright. Anduin was almost entirely wrapped in bandages, but what skin was visible was speckled with cuts and contusions and dark purple bruises. He was resting against a pile of pillows, unmoving. But his eyes were undeniably open, a bright flicker of blue in the darkness of the room.

"Anduin," he stammered, clearing his throat. "How are you feeling?"

For a long, drawn out and painfully silent moment, the prince didn't respond, just stared back at his father with a passive expression. He might not have ever made a sound at all, except that he was suddenly taken by a fit of coughs that shook his entire frame and caused him to wince. A fresh wave of emotions overcame Varian as he watched helplessly from where he stood. Anduin's cough wracked his whole body and caused his cheeks to turn red with breathlessness. And all Varian could do was watch in agonizing silence, wishing desperately that he could do something to alleviate his son's suffering.

The king took a steadying breath of his own and tried to shove aside those feelings, the ones that threatened to move him to tears. Though he would never admit it, not to anyone at all, he had spent a good portion of his night crying already, and he was certain that it showed in the redness around his eyes, which he was hoping could be passed off as mere exhaustion. He didnt want to break down here, now, again. Not in front of Anduin. Not when his son needed him to be strong now more than ever.

"F-Father," the young prince said at last, lifting a shaky hand to wipe at his mouth. "I'm doing okay." As if to prove his point, he tried to force a smile onto his lips, but it just wouldn't seem to form through the sharp, stabbing pain that seemed to radiate from every single inch of his body. "I just...I can't really remember what happened. And I woke up here, and I didn't know where I was, and you weren't here-"

Realizing his misspoken words, Anduin felt a sudden heat rise to his cheeks, no doubt tinting them with his shame. He dropped his blue eyes to his lap, afraid of what he might find were he to look back at his father. Varian had never been one for weakness, and Anduin was sure that his neediness would most definitely be seen as weak. He had spent the past weeks doing nothing but try to prove that he was old enough to take care of himself, and in a single slip of the tongue, all of that had been undone.

Varian, however, felt nothing but guilt overcoming him at Anduin's words, so laced with fear. Alone. He had left his son all alone, wondering where he was or if he would ever come back. Alone, and in pain, and with no one there to hold his hand when he awoke. Hadnt he abandoned him enough by now?

But Varian shook his head slowly in a vain attempt to clear those thoughts, doing little more than causing his long dark strands of hair to dance around his face. He couldn't change that now, couldnt change anything at all. The only thing left for him to do was move forward from here, and so that was what he did, taking a few staggering steps towards the bed.

He paused near the edge, clenching and unclenching his hands idly at his sides. He wanted to scoop the prince up dramatically into his arms, crush him to his chest, feel the small flutter of his heart still undeniably beating. He wanted to throw down his sword and vow to do whatever it took to make his son happy. But a king couldn't rule with his emotions, couldn't be swayed by the people he loved. Even if it was his son he was talking about, he couldn't base the fate of the entire Alliance on that.

Besides, Anduin looked much too fragile in his current state for Varian to scoop up and hold onto. He fared that if he so much as breathed on him, he would shatter completely.

Instead, he opted to drop to his knees at the side of the bed, a loud thudding noise following as his heavy armor hit the hardwood floor. He rested his hand on the side of the bed, a silent offering for Anduin to take it, if he would so choose. The prince's fingers were all black and blue and swollen, and two of them were wrapped up with thick gauze, no doubt broken, as were so many of his other bones.

"Anduin," Varian began again, reaching towards his child, but before he was able to make contact with him, before he was able to say anything else, he was cut off abruptly.

"Where were you?" Anduin blurted, spitting the words out before he could stop himself. "Why weren't you here when I woke up?"

He regretted it instantly, regretted the look of hurt that had taken up residence on his father's face. He regretted the fact that he sounded like a foolish child. But he couldn't help it. He was in agonizing amounts of pain, and he was frightened, and he had no idea what was going on, and the fact of the matter was that every time Varian went away, Anduin was plagued with the fear that he was never coming back. He wasn't supposed to be so weak, he knew. He was supposed to be strong, he was supposed to be brave, he was supposed to be an adult, but he just didn't know how to be any of that.

Varian himself felt his heart shatter on impact at his son's question and the way he was staring up at him with such wide, pleading eyes. He wasn't looking at a king; he was looking at a father, and not a very good one at that. Several times the brunette felt his mouth open and close, without any sound ever managing to make it out. What could he say, really, to soften the pain? His child was laying in bed, practically on the edge of death, and he hadn't been there. He should have been waiting anxiously to draw him into his arms and promise him that everything would be okay, even if it would have been a lie. Because as a parent, that was his job. And once again, as a parent, he had failed.

Almost subconsciously, he withdrew the hand that had been resting on the edge of the bed, his small offering of peace and comfort. Obviously, Anduin didn't want it. That thought alone was enough to break the king's heart. He dropped his hand instead to his side, where it brushed up against the massive hilt of Shalamayne.

Varian knew that he didn't have an answer to Anduin's question, and that anything he might have said to him would have felt forced and fake. Because managing his emotions had never been his strongest skill. And staring at his son, with his bright blue eyes, the light of which had almost very nearly been crushed right out of him, leaving Varian alone in a world of dark, he felt his thoughts turning as they so often did to another whom he had loved and lost. Not a single day passed that Varian did not think of Tiffin. Even without her there, it was her strength and light that guided him through each day. Honoring her memory by giving his all to defend his loved ones and his kingdom was the only reason he dragged himself out of bed each morning.

And in that moment, watching Anduin, he swore that he was looking at her, swore that he could feel her reassuring hand upon his shoulder. The king swallowed hard, lifting his gaze from where it had fallen to the floor, and locked into a stare with the young prince.

"Anduin," he began slowly. "I know that you're upset with me. I know that we haven't been seeing eye to eye lately. But…" Light, why was this so difficult for him to get out? He should not have been struggling so immensely to speak to his own flesh and blood. It stabbed him like a thousand knives in the chest, realizing that he didnt even know how to have a conversation with the boy, wondering when it had reached this point between them.

Well, he thought, forcing aside his doubts and hesitation. He had faced down thousands of foes before, and now it seemed his biggest enemy was his own doubt. he would just have slay that like all the rest. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to push through.

"Anduin," he started again, holding his gaze levelly. "I want you to know that I'm proud of you."

The blonde felt his brows raise in surprise and confusion. Proud of him? They were words that he struggled to grasp, at least coming from Varian, who was always so stern and serious, who never gave away what he was feeling. He wanted nothing more than to hug his father, to hold onto him as tightly as he could and let go of all the animosity that he had carried around for however long. He would have too, except that the mere thought of lifting his arms caused his joints and muscles to ache.

So instead he summoned a smile, the best one that he could, and he inched his hand forward towards Varian. A silent offering. "I'm proud of you too, dad" he whispered.

Varian's dark eyes flickered from Anduin's face to his extended hand. Without a moment of hesitation, he took his small fingers in his own massive hand. "Just remember," Anduin went on then, doing his best to give his father's hand a squeeze. "I'm alive, and you're alive, and we'll always have each other."

Varian clung to those words, repeating them over and over to himself in his mind, turning them into a mantra. Anduin was alive, and he was alive. That was all that mattered now. Whatever trials may lay ahead, whatever else they may have to face, they were alive, and they had each other. The king had little doubt in his mind that when all of this was over, he and his son would be able to put aside their differences, to come to an understanding.

His fingers were still encasing those of the prince, the difference in size so vastly apparent. For a few prolonged moments, he was content just to sit beside him and know that in spite of all that was going on in the world, all of the war that raged on around them, in this one single moment, all was right.


End file.
